The Final Rebellion
by CJ.Ruru
Summary: The Revolutionary War, but told from England's perspective. Rated T for intense atmosphere. No Potential Yaoi implied. Oneshot.


It's not a day I like to remember... but who would like to remember a day like that? Even though it was nearly 200 centuries ago, I can still remember it as if it were yesterday...

It was raining harder than ever; at least that's how it felt. And I was standing there alone, soaked to the bone with my musket pointed right ahead of me. And who was my musket pointed at? My enemy. My colony. My little brother... America.

America, who once meant the world to me, was in a poorly made uniform, with a damaged musket, and more wounds than myself. He didn't have a secure stance, not how I taught him in the past. He could be knocked over easily. If I looked close enough, he might have even been shaking a little bit. Or maybe my sight was just blurred from the rain. But with all of this... he did not appear weak. No, America appeared stronger than ever with nothing but determination in his eyes. Determination to defeat me, and become his own, independent nation. But I didn't let myself believe that.

"I'm not a child any more, England," he said bitterly from across the muddy field. "and I'm not your little brother, either."

My eyes narrowed, and with each word of betrayal from him, I felt another stab at my heart. Why was he doing this? Why would he hurt me this way? I couldn't let those thoughts hold me back though. America was being rebellious and it was time to put him in his place.

"How _dare _you speak to me that way," I yelled. "After everything I've done for you!"

At this point, I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, and I fought very hard to hold them back. I was not going to cry in front of America like that. I was not going to show him any sympathy, any weakness in me. No, I was much stronger than America, and I was going to show him that.

"England," he said, his voice much softer, and less harsh than before. "All I want... is my freedom... why don't you understand that? Why don't you understand that I do not _need _you anymore?"

My glare towards America deepened. Suddenly, I no longer felt the tears in my eyes. I couldn't tell if they mixed in with the rain going down my cheeks, or if I was feeling too much anger, betrayal and hurt to cry.

"Who do you think you are, git?! Tch, you can't defend yourself! You can't do anything yourself! You hardly even have a real army. I've done everything for you from the beginning! I kept you safe, I took care of you, I taught you everything you know! I've taken good care of you ever since the day I took you in... and this is how you thank me? You're nothing but an ungrateful brat!"

I paused and took a breath. My breathing was slow and deep. My glare darkened and I felt a smirk ceep onto my lips as I finished my speech.

"And now... heh, now you think you can defeat me... Me, the great British Empire. Hah, what a joke. I swear I'll make you regret this decision, America."

I looked America right in the eyes with every word I said throughout all of that, and I saw each and every emotion that passed through those bright, blue eyes of his. At first, they seemed hurt, but the hurt soon changed to sorrow which was followed by regret... but when I looked again, all of those emotions were replaced by one much more clear. Anger. Anger filled those once, happy, joyful eyes. The same eyes that I made burst with happiness and excitement were now the same I eyes I made fill with nothing but anger. And soon, America was pointing his musket at me, eyes narrowed and everything.

"I'm stronger than you think, England." he said. "I have become much stronger than the lost child you found wondering in that field, and I am more than capable of becoming my own nation, and defeating you in this war."

And that's where I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore, not another word! Where was my sweet little brother who loved me and looked up to me? Who depended on me to take care of him, protect him, provide for him? Who was this rebellious brat? Who was this ignorant yankee who thought he could defeat me?

I found myself lunging towards America, musket pointed directly at him and everything. As I ran, America's eyes suddenly filled with a new emotion... fear. My little brother was... afraid of me... I changed my target at the last second, and instead of striking him, I struck his musket right out of him hands, but kept my own weapon pointed right at his chest. We made direct eye contact for a few seconds, and immediately, I saw the young boy I was supposed to be protecting. I broke down.

Suddenly, I found myself on my knees in the mud with my hands covering my face. Rain poured down all over me, and my uniform was becoming ruined. I regretted everything.

"I-I can't shoot you..." I muttered into my own hands, refusing to look up at America. Yet I could feel his stare on my back. "Damnit... damnit, America why?!"I was bawling my eyes out like a child at this point, A river of tears flowed from my eyes and into my hands. The last words I heard him speak to me where,

"England... You were once so great..."

I cried harder. All the memories flashed before my eyes. Finding him in that field, taking him in, raising him... all the good and bad, and before I knew it, I heard his footstep walking away. I was alone. Crying. A disgraceful mess.

"Goodbye, America... goodbye forever..."

**A/N: Yeah, this is a bit depressing, but it's also one of my very old stories from maybe two years ago? I tried writing England's point of view because you don't see that often with the Revolutionary War stories... that, and I wanted to try my hand at writing England seeing I usually focus myself on America. ^^ So PLEASE give me feedback on how I did. I edited this a lot, because the notebook version was not too great... ._. Overall, review, favorite, and most of all enjoy!**


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